Harry Potter and the Hunger Games
by TheTwilightMarauder
Summary: Harry Potter and the Hunger Games crossover. Okay, so I'm not brilliant at summaries, but please read and review to let me know if i should bother updating. First fic, no flames please!


In the usually buzzing Great Hall, the silence seemed deafening. Where people were usually laughing boisterously with their friends, they now ate breakfast mostly in silence. Some people talked quietly to close friends or family members, and some of the older students were whispering reassuringly to the terrified first-years. I sat between Ron and Hermione, all of us half-heartedly nibbling on slices of toast, and my eyes flickered once again to the doors of the hall. Teddy still hadn't arrived.

Ron's younger sister Ginny sat between their older twin brothers Fred and George and the four Weasleys still in school muttered to each other in voices that were both worried and trying to sound comforting. Again my eyes drifted to the doors and this time I saw Teddy coming in, looking extremely apprehensive. I waved to him and he shuffled over and planted himself on my lap. Nobody seemed surprised at this. Many of the older students sat like this with older siblings today, and although Teddy wasn't actually my brother, he may as well have been. Since my parents had died when I was one, I had been raised by my Godfather Sirius. Growing up I had always been close to his and my dad's other best friend Remus too, then when I was four, Teddy came along and he could have been my brother. In fact, when he was younger he had actually thought he was, we were so close. Now I was fifteen, and he was eleven. That meant it was his first year at Hogwarts, and his first year in the reaping.

His hair was the same shade of tawny brown as his father Remus' today, instead of its usual vibrant blue, or turquoise. Like his mother, Tonks, Teddy was a metamorphmagus, and his hair or eye colour often changed without him realising to reflect how he felt, but he obviously wasn't in the mood today to be his usual bright and bubbly self. I pushed some toast into his hand as he burrowed himself further into me, and my friends offered him what they obviously hoped were reassuring smiles.

My gaze drifted to the staff table then and I was unsurprised to see that none of the teachers were eating much either. They never did on reaping day. Despite most of them being strict in classes, and not hesitating to punish rule-breakers accordingly, none of them actually wanted to see any of the students die. Not even Snape, the potions professor and Head of Slytherin house, who was notoriously cruel to all students except the Snakes. Neither he, nor the other Heads of house – Sprout, Flitwick and McGonagall seemed any happier than any of the other teachers. They knew that it would later be their job to read the names of seven students from their house, one from each year, to send them to what would probably be their deaths.

Basically, every year at Hogwarts, one student from each house of each year was selected at random to be a tribute in the Hunger Games. This was a tournament that was invented 53 years ago when some crazy Dark Lord managed to obtain enough power to overthrow the current Minister for Magic. He decided that 28 children would be taken from their families and forced to fight to the death in an arena with all of the British wizarding world watching. Only one of the original 28 tributes would survive, and he or she would be crowned the victor, the house to which they belonged would be showered with gifts and the victor and their family would get the opportunity to live in a fancy house in the Victor's Village. For some reason, once the psycho was taken down, none of the succeeding Ministers had put an end to the Games. I guessed they liked to feel that they had power over the public. For whatever reason, it was sick.

What was even sicker, in my opinion, was that there were people who bet on who die first, and who would kill who. There were people who got a warped enjoyment out of seeing these kids forced to kill each other, people who viewed it as sport.

It was common for wealthy, pure-blood families (*Cough*Slytherins*Cough*) to train their children from young ages to be able to win the Games, and for one's child's name to be drawn in the reaping was a wonderful opportunity to show off how well you have trained them. It was easy to see on the faces of the students whose names had been drawn that some of them agreed whole-heartedly with their parents and couldn't wait to get to the arena and show off their skills, while others just looked as shocked and terrified as most students from the other houses.

About half an hour after the last stragglers had entered the Great Hall and everybody had had the chance to eat something, the food disappeared from the tables and Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of the school, stood up. The remaining whispers died down as everybody focused on him. It was clear on his face as he gave the mandatory speech on the history of the Games that he was as pleased about all of this as the rest of the staff.

I knew that by this point invisible magically-altered cameras were broadcasting every word to the general wizarding public. I knew that Sirius, Remus and Tonks will have gone to the Weasley's house, and brought Hermione's parents with them, to watch anxiously to see if any of us will be chosen.

As Dumbledore's speech drew to a close, the tension in the hall increased dramatically. Teddy snuggled closer to me and gripped my shirt, Hermione grabbed my hand under the table and the Weasleys all reached across the table to hold each other's hands. Many other friends and family members throughout the hall did the same and I rubbed Teddy's back with my free hand reassuringly. Dumbledore seemed to age a decade and his demeanour grew much more solemn as he finished talking and he spoke about how he hopes ' the odds may be ever in our favour', a line which had to be spoken before each reaping, even though anyone could see it really meant nothing.

Slytherin students are the first to be reaped, followed by Ravenclaw, then Hufflepuff, with Gryffindor last. Now, Dumbledore handed over to Professor Snape, and the hall collectively held its breath as the Head of Slytherin rose from his chair and walked to the center of the stage.


End file.
